


Heart of the Home

by jekyll_inside



Category: X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Conversations, Erik has Feelings, Fluff, M/M, Tags Are Hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-11
Updated: 2014-08-11
Packaged: 2018-02-12 18:55:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2120979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jekyll_inside/pseuds/jekyll_inside
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Our shark and mouse having a kitchen heart-to-heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heart of the Home

**Author's Note:**

> So here in England we're getting the remnants of Hurricane Bertha, and I figured it would be nice to write some fluff while the weather is all angsty outside! Enjoy <3
> 
> p.s. i do not know how to make cake, do not try this at home kids

Erik was following his nose. If anyone had happened to see him padding barefoot through the corridors of the mansion they would have been reminded of a suspicious, narrow-eyed puppy. Not that they would tell him that.

"Charles?" he called out carefully when he'd traced the smell to the ground floor, stepping up to the closed kitchen door. He could hear the clattering of pots and pans, and cheery humming. With the same trepidation as someone discovering a lost tomb, Erik opened the door, grey eyes quickly taking in the room. The counter, usually sparkling white, were littered with bowls and spoons of various sizes, and every container he could see held some trace of a mysterious yellow gloop. Charles was-

Charles was dancing around the kitchen, a spoon in his mouth and the source of the happy humming. He turned dials on the oven, sloshed milk into a particularly large bowl and removed his spoon to taste some, all in extravagant flourishes, his hair even more messy than usual. Erik stood bemused for a moment, then Charles must have felt his presence because he turned, a little startled, with his spoon halfway back to his mouth.

"Erik! Evening!"

"Evening Charles," he replied automatically, smiling a little - then he remembered why he'd come down and suspicion fell onto his face again. "What are you doing?"

Charles saw the transition and hid his smile as he spread his arms. "I'm making cake, Erik. Care to join me?"

"No - I only came down because of the noise you were making," the German said, and most would have been put off by the tone - but Charles could feel his friend itching with curiosity. He watched him peer into his mixing bowl.

"What type of cake are you making?" he eventually asked, frowning suspiciously.

Charles didn't need asking twice. "Victoria sponge! To lift everyone's spirits when they get back from the field trip, seeing as the weather is so bloody awful at the moment. I have a problem though.."

"A problem?" Erik repeated, glancing around the kitchen as if expecting an armed threat. Charles felt a little guilty when he felt the stream of: _Must help Charles. Health issue? Emotional issue?_

"Yes. You see, I've, er.. I might of missed an ingredient in the cake."

"The cake."

"Hmm."

Erik relaxed - which for Erik meant crossing his arms. "Well, do you have the recipe?"

"Ah, no I'm afraid not," he replied with a meek smile.

"What? Why not?"

"I don't use them."

"You don't use recipes," Erik repeated flatly, raising an eyebrow. Charles blushed a little, surprised by how good that expression of mild disbelief looked on the sharp lines of Erik's face and shaking his head. Erik's second eyebrow joined the first and his lips curved in a small smirk.

"Don't judge me Lensherr, I'm far too creative to follow instructions," the telepath said primly, before turning back to his mixing pot of goo and locating another spoon for his friend. "Taste this for me, will you?" he said, tentatively scooping some onto the spoon. Then the utensil left his hand, bring a small smile to Charles' face as he turned and watched it float into the other man's fingers. Erik eyed the substance carefully. He did it for so long that Charles said laughingly:

"Bloody hell Erik it's not _poisonous_."

"How do you know if you didn't follow the recipe?" came the reply, before he put the spoon in his mouth. The professor watched his face as the spoon was shortly removed and the taste analysed, Erik's eyes narrowed. Charles was beginning to wonder if that was their default state.

"Well?"

"Charles that tastes awful."

"No seriously Erik."

"I am serious Charles that tastes awful," he said in the exact same tone as before, and as the telepath watched his friend turn to the counter, open ingredients boxes and bags everywhere, he realised he  _was_ serious - a difficult distinction considering Erik's sarcasm and normal voice sounded almost identical - and he frowned unhappily, murmuring: "Tasted alright to me."

"Your mouth is dysfunctional," Erik replied. Then he sighed, his eyes fastening on the bag of sugar. "Charles."

"What?"

"Did you use salt instead of sugar."

The Professor scoffed, reaching into his cardigan pocket to retrieve his reading glasses and putting them on as he reached past Erik's broad frame. "I highly doubt I would have-" He stopped, squinting unnecessarily as if expecting the traitorous (and embarrassingly large) label to change.

"You were saying?" Erik murmured.

"Gloating's unattractive, Erik," Charles announced, giving him a look over his glasses that made the older man's stomach do a little flip before opening one of the cupboards and putting the 'sugar' away. Erik watched him reach up for the real bag of sugar next to it.

"Do you want a ladder?"

"Shut up, Erik."

He smirked, allowing himself to admire Charles' small, pale waist as the stretch lifted his shirt, leaning casually against the breakfast bar as he did so. When the Professor had obtained his prize he came down from tip toe and shut the cupboard, throwing Erik one of those over-the-glasses looks again as he said good-naturedly: "It appears I do need reading glasses after all."

"I haven't seen you wear them before," the German replied.

"Really? Oh, well Raven picked them out for me because she doesn't trust my sense of style. What do you think?" He turned his bright gaze to him again, as if Erik could forget his face. The silver half moons made his eyes sparkle, and Erik was struck with a lancing attraction that wasn't uncommon nowadays, but his friend misunderstood his silence and pulled an uneasy face. "See, that's what  _I_ thought at first," he sighed, taking them off with a hand and folding them as he folded into himself self-consciously. "I already feel ancient with the birthday coming up, let alone with these bloody things."

Birthday? "No Charles wait, that's not what I was going to say," Erik said hastily, kicking himself.

"No, it's quite alright," Charles returned, again good natured despite his soft tone and blush, putting the glasses back in his cardigan pocket. Then he laughed at himself a little breathlessly. "I feel rather daft now. Salt in the cake, dear me.."

"I've made you unhappy," Erik said brilliantly, wondering if he was good for anything other than ruining moods.

"You couldn't make me unhappy just by being yourself, Erik, now who's being daft," he admonished gently, throwing him a quick smile. "Will you get the butter out the fridge for me?"

He leapt up to obey, opening the fridge and locating the yellow cube. He hesitated before putting it on the counter, looking at Charles' turned back. Then he spurred himself with a small breath and put a hand on the Professor's shoulder. Charles nearly leapt out of his skin and Erik - who very rarely initiated physical contact and was now remembering why - mistook his surprise for a flinch and stepped back quickly. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have - I'll just-"

Charles recovered quickly and his laugh turned to confusion as his friend started to retreat. "Erik it's fine, you just made me jump!" He put down his wooden spoon and just managed to catch Erik's wrist before he left the kitchen with his usual determined speed.

_Hey, come on. Only me,_ he told him gently, hoping the telepathy would soothe him. Though judging by Erik's tight jaw and hard eyes when he looked at him, it didn't.

"I like the glasses," he said flatly, using the same tone to compliment as others would to say ' _I'm gonna break your nose._ '

"Thank you."

Erik continued to glare at him for a few seconds. "I like them a lot."

"I believe you," Charles assured him with only a ghost of humour, before releasing his wrist to put his hand on his shoulder. Erik recognised his 'teacher face' before the Professor even opened his mouth. Sure enough: "You don't need to retreat like that from me, Erik."

"Some of us aren't as socially adept as you, Charles," was his immediate reply and he winced at his own words - why was he only expressive when he was being a jerk?

"My God you think I'm social?" the telepath said lightly, chuckling and turning back to the counter now that he was reasonably sure Erik would stay put. "I'm nearly thirty and all I do is read and teach. Will you pass the butter?"

Erik slowly prowled back to the counter and passed his friend the cube. He watched him weigh and mix ingredients for a while in silence, at one point sitting on one of the breakfast bar stools. Gradually, the feeling of annoyance at himself faded as he watched Charles' small, deft hands.

"When is your birthday, Charles?" he asked after a while of deliberating - he felt ashamed of not knowing.

"The 5th of January," came the bright reply. A week away. Erik became so immersed in strategic calculations that he almost didn't hear Charles ask him the same question. "Oh, er, December," he said with a shrug, adding: "But I don't celebrate it." His mother used to make him gingerbread men specially. He could still remember the smell, one of his few remaining pre-war memories. Burning his fingers on biscuits straight out of the oven and Edie's light smack on the back of his hands. _Vorsicht, Erik!_

"Why didn't you tell me, for heaven's sake?" Erik looked up to see Charles staring at him, spoon loose in his fingers and looking both hurt and put-out. 

"Charles, you forget that I'm not like you when it comes to parties," he replied, finding a touch of affection in his voice at his friend's reaction. He'd often imagined, with a kind of black humour, people exchanging gifts and laughter at his funeral. Ebenezer Lensherr - Dickens would be proud.

_You mean when it comes to people_ , Charles returned, raising an eyebrow at him over his shoulder as he turned back to baking.  _When_ was _your birthday, then?_ _And if you say today I'm going to strangle you._

That made Erik laugh, a rare thing that made Charles' spirit hum. "A couple of weeks ago. December 16th."

_Then we'll have a drink tonight in belated celebration_ , the telepath decided, finding it easier to communicate in thoughts while the other parts of his brain tried not to get eggshell in the cake.

_Charles._ Erik sighed, the only out-loud response.  _I just told you I don't like parties._

The professor smirked, and his friend only got to see half of it from this angle, more's the pity.  _Erik, if you think the two of us getting drunk on a couch is a party you_ really _need to get out more._ Erik smiled. Perhaps he didn't hate that idea after all.

_Your projections are getting clearer, by the way,_ the Professor told him after a few minutes, giving him a smile as he beat eggs in a mug with a fork, leaning his back against the counter so the two of them could look at each other.

_It still needs work,_ Erik replied, a touch of colour rising in his face that Charles would mistake for self-conciousness. Really, it was because he knew Charles' body looked perfect in that gentle draping onto the counter, and Charles + kitchen counter = a predictable chain of thoughts. He shifted a little on his stool, glad he was getting better at hiding his thoughts, too.

_Have you been practising?_

_The meditation?_

Charles nodded, the impossible blue of his eyes full of interest. Erik didn't find that gaze intimidating any more - he no linger felt like a science experiment, because Erik now knew what he saw was Charles' caring.

"It's.. still difficult for me to find the serenity you described," he said, finding it easier to say it out loud.

"You're looking for the point between, Erik, not either extreme," Charles replied, turning to the mixing bowl to pour in the beaten eggs but glancing at him to invite further conversation.

"But I need to know the length of the spectrum in order to find the middle," he countered.

"I disagree." The Professor poured the (much better looking) cake mix into a circular cake tin carefully, adding as he did so: "When I brought you to your point of focus I didn't find your most rage-filled and peaceful memories then just draw a line down the middle."

"You didn't?" Erik murmured.

"My dear friend, no. That would make your mind unstable, not centred. Hang on, let me just put this in the oven then we'll go through it."

A shiver of excitement moved through Erik like it always did when Charles offered to link their minds so fully. Then with a small jolt he realised he probably _didn't_ want Charles to see his most recent thoughts, and while the younger man put the fruits of his labour on an oven shelf, Erik put his thoughts into private boxes like his friend had taught him in their first few lessons, worried about intruding on Erik's fragile personal space. Then Charles was wiping his hands on a tea towel and taking the stool at Erik's side.

"Okay?" he said brightly.

"Okay," Erik confirmed, resting his hands on his thighs and letting his mind open as Charles raised a few fingers to his own temple. Then the telepath smiled with the kind of slow warmth that made Erik shiver.

_Lots of_ 'Mind your own business Charles' _boxes, I see._

"I didn't mean it like-"

_Joking, Erik, joking._ His hand dropped from his head now that the link was fully established, and the telepath's eyes narrowed slightly as he studied Erik's gaze, seeing something beyond the pale grey.  _You've been looking for thoughts that make you both angry and calm, by the looks of things._ A face was brought gently into Erik's awareness, kind and thin, and he nodded.

_I think of my mother_ , he replied simply. He felt more than saw Charles' understanding, and the telepath released the image to let it float back into his friend's subconscious.

_I'm sorry. I've_ _made things unnecessarily difficult for you,_ he said, shifting a little on his stool with his mouth tightening. _Allow me to explain better._ There was a pause while he thought of what to say, and Erik watched a small frown form on his pale face, the Professor glancing down in thought. Then he met his gaze again with a certain resolution.  _When you're angry, Erik, and correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe you feel your most powerful. And at the same time, your most powerless._

Feeling a little vulnerable at the acute observation, Erik found himself nodding, remembering the destruction of Shaw's room and he'd shot-

_Gently, my friend. Think gently_ , Charles' soft words cut off the spike of emotion just before the German could tense up.  _What I'm trying to help you achieve_ , he continued, giving the small swirl of bleak memory a gently push away,  _is a state where you feel the power of your anger, combined with the control you feel at your most peaceful. The goal is focus - a state of heightened capability that is fuelled by energy, not raw emotion. Do you understand?_

Erik nodded, and when the telepath felt new ideas swell up, inspired by the words, he took a metaphorical step back, patiently watching but not reading his friend's thoughts until he was ready to share them. When Erik was thinking as he was now, the Professor quietly noted to himself, he wore the expression of someone overlooking a battlefield. It was the expression his father had warn when war was declared over the radio. A soft grimace, as if he'd come to terms with the terrible nature of what he was experiencing as something inevitable.

_Charles._

_Yes, Erik._

The other mutant looked up to meet his blue gaze, his eyes holding a remarkably honest quality that Charles couldn't quite put his finger on.

_The only time I feel both powerful and in control is when I'm with you. Is that wrong?_

Charles fell silent, the words hitting him right in the centre in an indescribable way. Then he swallowed, trying to pull his stunned self together before Erik would misinterpret his shock and close up.

_Er, no. No, Erik that's not wrong. if that's what makes you feel strong.. then.._

_It is,_ he confirmed with flat certainty. Charles straightened a little, drawing on some of Erik's collected attitude to stop whatever was reeling inside him. _Well then. I'm glad,_ he managed brilliantly.

_You're.. you're alright with that, though?_ his friend asked carefully, and Charles felt a hint of his nervousness.  _I don't want to.. intrude._

_Erik._ Charles put a hand on his knee, hoping to convey the same honesty he'd seen in the other man.  _I'm honoured that you see me that way. It's... It's the greatest compliment you could give me._

Erik smiled, small and genuine. Then a thought floated forward, bringing with it a small frown.  _Can I ask what you think of, Charles? You've never told me._

The telepath leant back a little, resting an elbow on the counter and supporting his head with a few fingers.  _You can ask my friend, but I think you can guess the answer._ He was smiling a little at him, and Erik was made to feel like an infinitely curious work of art. It wasn't a feeling he was used to, but he found.. he didn't dislike it.

"You're flattering me," he eventually said, a little gruff as he shook himself from his distraction.

"It's the truth," Charles replied, watching his friend get up with amusement. "What, have I embarrassed you?"

Erik loped over to the coffee machine, needing to put a little distance between himself and his friend's smile, which was threatening to catch on his own lips.

"Erik."

"Hmm?"

"I can feel you smiling. I think I've made you happy." That made the older man raise an eyebrow at him, expression neutral, and Charles' grin was bright as he said: "You don't fool me, my friend."

Erik scoffed, shaking his head as he reached into the cupboard above him. He pulled out one of Charles' fancy bone china cups and an old mug for himself, flicking on the kettle and the coffee machine when he'd set them down on the counter. "You haven't always known me," he said after a moment.

"No, I haven't," Charles admitted, leaning back a little and enjoying how long it took for his eyes to travel from his friend's shoulders to his legs. "My centre of focus was Raven when I was younger."

"But not any more?" Erik put a teabag in the cup and brought a teaspoon out of a drawer with a flick of a hand.

"Not any more. She doesn't need me in the same way now, and I find it hard to use her as my centre when she wants to be completely independent of me." 

Erik glanced at him then, empathy softening his eyes so slightly Charles would have missed it if he wasn't so used to reading his micro-expressions. "Sorry. I didn't mean to intrude."

Charles gave him a light smile. "How about I tell you when you're being intrusive, rather than assuming it all the time?"

Erik took in his expression for a moment. How was the Professor satisfied by just looking at him? He was engaged by every simple, inexpressive sentence Erik uttered, looking at him like he was so damn interesting when Erik was convinced he couldn't be more plain.

"My dear Erik, you are far from _plain,_ " the telepath laughed. Erik raised an eyebrow at him. "Eavesdropping, Charles?"

"Do I need to spell out for you why you're not?" he said, ignoring the words because they both knew Erik didn't really care.

"If it means another half an hour on my 'beautiful mind', I'll pass," he returned in the tone only Charles knew was good-natured. They smirked at each other when he brought over their drinks, Erik taking up his stool again.

Charles sipped his tea and gave an appreciative hum, the bergamot that had quickly become Charles' scent in Erik's mind floating around them lazily. "But I do mean it Erik," he said, setting the cup on the counter and letting his hands cradle the warmth. "Our friendship is very important to me, and it does make me stronger."

"Really? Because right now it's making me want to vomit."

Charles gave him a look that was marred by the smile sneaking onto his face. Then he sighed. "Fine. You're alright, Erik. Mediocre at best."

Erik smirked again, lifting his black coffee to his lips. "That's better."

He was glad Charles couldn't hear his heart skipping.

 


End file.
